


this sinking feeling

by lecygne



Series: all time low [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rimming, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 00:00:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16229999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecygne/pseuds/lecygne
Summary: One year after Justin Oluransi walks out of his life, Adam Birkholtz isn’t doing so great. A surprise visit from his ex only complicates things.





	this sinking feeling

_(905) 555-7971: Hey._

_(905) 555-7971: I’m in town._

            Adam stares at the texts that flash across his screen.

_(905) 555-7971: It’s Justin, btw._

            He huffs and rolls his eyes, turning off the screen and plunging himself back into darkness. Yeah, he knew who it was. He may have deleted Justin Oluransi’s contact from his phone a year ago, but that number will be seared into his memory forever.

            It’s the same number he’s tapped into his own phone and stared at for months, working himself up into an anxious ball of nerves before inevitably deleting it. Adam has looked at that number more often than he’d like to admit and when the Samwell group texts ping from time to time, everyone’s names are still intact except for that mysterious 905 number.

            So, of course, Justin would choose to text him now, just when Adam thought he might have wrangled some semblance of self-restraint. A baby step in getting over his ex. He was proud.

_(905) 555-7971: You up, bro?_

**(716) 555-9902: ya, i’m up**

**(716) 555-9902: what are you doing in boston?**

            Not too proud, he supposes.

_(905) 555-7971: There was a conference. Can I stop by?_

            Adam should feel pissed, for so many reasons. Justin just assumes Adam is sitting at home, by himself? Unlikely. Rosie, his cat, meows at him judgmentally.

            Okay, very likely. Regardless, the last time they saw each other was when Justin was loading a U-Haul full of boxes and fucking off to California, leaving Adam behind to pick up the pieces of himself. Now he lives alone in a tiny, cramped studio apartment, sits behind a screen at a job that eats up more of his time than he’s getting rightfully compensated for, and sends reactions to the group text to let everyone know he’s still breathing.

            Life hadn’t quite seemed the vast expanse of promise that it once was back at Samwell. In fact, Adam’s life had narrowed down to three separate cubes of space; home, cubicle, car. Boston Consulting Group kept him busy enough that shrugging off his friends invites with excuses of working late had managed to keep them off the scent of what he refused to acknowledge was a downward spiral. He believed his own lie enough to let the entirety of life come to a halt. There were boxes still stacked in the corners of his apartment and starting to gather dust. If it wasn’t a necessity, it hadn’t been unearthed.

            Adam’s life desperately needed a jump start, anything to feel alive. And that text, searingly bright against his dim-lit apartment was so incredibly tempting.

**(716) 555-9902: sure**

            Adam never claimed he wasn’t weak.

            He shoots off his address and flicks on a light, looking around his apartment. Clothes were tossed over his bed and chairs, bottles and wrappers were sprinkled about the counters and flat surfaces. Adam leaned down to pick up the shirt closest to him, tossing it over his faded basketball shorts.

_(905) 555-7971: Great. I’ll be there in 20._

            Barely enough to make his place look quasi-presentable. Adam shoves his clothes into the closet, tosses the duvet over his bed and hops into a quick shower. Rosie watches him as he dashes back and forth across his tiny apartment, desperately trying to pull himself together.

            There was a tentative knock on the door, a barely there rapping Adam wasn’t sure he heard. He hesitated, an armful of weeks-old beer cans in his arms before the knocking became more insistent. He jumped, quickly dropping his cans into the recycling and running a hand down his shirt, an old rumpled Adidas t-shirt that was far too wrinkled to leave any other impression besides “home alone on a Friday night.”

            Whatever, Justin has seen him at his worst more times than he could count, but this feels different. He wants to at least have the mirage of having his life together, but a glance around his sparse apartment would prove otherwise. Boxes were still tucked into corners, every flat surface turned into a space to throw his clothes, and his sink has only a single bowl and spoon in it that he washed, as needed. It was horrendously apparent that Adam’s life is tragically empty and haphazard. He swallows thickly and bites the bullet, unlocking and yanking the door open.

            Adam gets the breath knocked out of him. Justin’s leaning against the door frame and he looks ungodly beautiful in a charcoal suit, a slate grey tie undone and hanging loosely around his neck, the top few buttons popped open to reveal the long column of his throat. He even has his jacket slung over his shoulder, looking relaxed and not at all like he’s crashing through all of Adam’s carefully constructed walls like a bulldozer. Justin looks good and Adam knows he’s made a horrible mistake. He is not over Justin, not even a little bit, and this whole situation reeks of a bad idea.

            “Hey,” Justin grins, softly, and Adam never stood a chance. His heart is pounding and he can feel his answering grin crack the corners of his mouth in disuse. He steps back and motions Justin in, taking a deep breath of the cologne that still clings to his skin. Warm with a hint of vanilla, the same cologne he used at Samwell and the space between Adam’s rib aches, hotter and sharper than ever before.

            “Nice place,” Justin is still smiling, kneeling to offer Rosie a few scratches behind her ear. She’s purring loudly, immediately enamored because absolutely no person or animal on this earth could resist Justin Oluransi. Adam feels a little bit betrayed.

            “Uh, thanks,” Adam stands there, awkward and hovering, his hands clenching nervously at the hem of his wrinkled shirt.

            “You’re looking good, medical conventions get pretty wild, eh?” Adam sighs internally. Really, that’s the best he could come up with? It gets him a chuckle anyway, and Justin straightens and turns back to him, looking guilty.

            “I, uh, had dinner with Shitty and Lardo.”

            Oh, well, what the shit guys? They couldn’t give a friend a heads up that Adam’s ex that he’s totally not over is going to be in town? How long had they even known? Come to think of it, when was the last time Adam saw Lardo and Shitty? Or even talked to Jack and Bitty? When was the last time he had any meaningful conversation with anyone? When was the last time he saw his friends? Every interaction since he began his consulting job had been with co-workers. He hadn’t had a meaningful relationship with anyone since Samwell.

            Since Justin.

            When Justin walked out of Adam’s life, Adam never recovered. He never got over him, and he didn’t even bother to try. He closed himself off, to his friends, to his family. He barely talks to his co-workers when he’s on the clock and he’s certainly not going to the Friday Night Mixers. Nope, all Adam has done was sit around and mope.

            Justin lifts a hand to Adam’s cheek tentatively, rubbing his thumb across his cheekbone and knocking his glasses slightly off center. It makes the two Justin’s bounce and sway in Adam’s vision, but his warm hand on Adam’s skin is the most real and grounding thing Adam has felt in a long time.

            “I just really wanted to see you again.”

            Adam can feel his face burning, the embarrassment of how much he’s wanted to hear those words for so long. He’s dreamed of scenarios like this, of Justin sweeping into his life to confess how he lays awake at night wishing he had never left the way he did, to say he threw it all away because he wants to stay with Adam. Childish dreams, but then Justin slides his hand from Adam’s cheek to the back of his neck in one slow, smooth motion and with a gentle tug closes the distance between them. Their lips meet, slotting together without missing a beat and their bodies move on autopilot. Justin keeps his hand on the back of Adam’s neck, keeping him in place as he kisses the breath out of him. His other hand circles Adam’s waist and lassos him in and Adam melts against the planes of Justin’s body.

            Adam loses himself in the familiar touches; Justin’s hands holding him in place, gently stroking his skin with his thumbs while their bodies crash upon one another's. Justin pushes and Adam lets himself be moved, going pliant under his touch. Justin guides him until his legs bump the back of the couch and Justin pushes him down onto its cushions. He crawls and settles into Adam’s lap, a ridiculous but intimate gesture that Adam had not-so-secretly missed. His heart is trying to beat right out of his chest as Justin kisses him slow and deep, his thighs warm where they straddle Adam’s and the thin polyester of his shorts are doing nothing to hide his growing erection.

            Justin runs his hands down Adam’s chest, softened from a year without a consistent work out regimen and too many break room donuts. Justin, by contrast, seems to have either continued to bulk up or invest in shirts one size too small. Adam moves to unbutton it further, but Justin bats his hand away, dragging his lips across Adam’s scruff and down his neck, pausing to suck at the spot behind Adam’s ear that always makes him shiver. Justin sneaks a hand beneath the loose elastic band of Adam’s shorts, wrapping it around his dick and if there was any sense left in Adam’s brain it had sufficiently flown out the window. All he could concentrate on was the warm wetness of Justin’s tongue and the gentle stroking of his hand.

            Justin lifts himself just enough to tug on Adam’s shorts, and they work together to quickly yank them down far enough for Adam to kick them off. He manages in the process to grab at Justin’s shirt, yanking it free from his slacks and working at the buckle of his belt. He can see where Justin’s erection is pressed against his slacks, but he’s not fast enough to get them undone before Justin is pressing him back once more and stroking his cock with renewed vigor.

            It only takes a few strokes before Adam’s orgasm hits him embarrassingly quickly, whining as Justin strokes him through the aftershocks and spilling cum all over his fist as Adam grips him at the waist like his life depends on it. His breathing is ragged, but Justin’s is even and steady as he pulls away. Adam makes a noise in the back of his throat, another whine against his will, but it gets Justin’s clean hand back on his cheek cupping him with a tenderness he had forgotten.  

            “Shh,” he soothes. “I’ll be right back.” Adam lets go, watching as Justin crawls off his lap and considers his surroundings for a moment before scooping up Adam’s discard shorts and wiping off his hand.

            “Hey, I was wearing those.”

            “You have other shorts,” Justin turns back to him and settles down between Adam’s legs. His cock gives a half-heart twitch, but Justin ignores it in favor of running his hands up his thighs and this his hips, making Adam squirm as they tickle up his sides, pulling his shirt up. Justin follows with his mouth, peppering wet kisses up Adam’s time-softened tummy and rising so he can pull the old t-shirt off and toss it aside.

            Adam sits back, naked and vulnerable under Justin’s gaze. He can’t quite seem to meet it, choosing instead to stare at the dusting below Justin’s navel, following it down past his zipper. Justin moves, his hand gently capturing Adam’s jaw to tip it back and kiss him again. It was so soft, so incredibly gentle it made his eyes sting, threatening tears. Suddenly Justin is tugging him up, and then spinning him sideways onto the couch, using the surprise to his leverage and angling Adam over the arm of the couch. Justin runs his hands down Adam’s back, over the globes of his ass and squeezing, gently tugging them apart. Adam barely has time to mutter “Oh shit,” before Justin gently swipes his tongue across his ass. His hips buck forward involuntarily, and his cock fails once again to get in the game, but boy is it sure trying.

            “Is this okay?” Adam can feel the breath across his skin where Justin asks.

            “Yes,” his voice is breathless and shaky, but he doesn’t have the mind to care. Justin’s tongue is prodding gently at him again and Adam’s world has narrowed down to that one sensation.

            They hadn’t done this very much when they were at Samwell. It had taken a year or so to build up to ask about it, both of them reading and researching and “researching” before the first time Adam went down on Justin. They had done it a handful of times together, but the most memorable experience of it was the afterglow, the complete openness they felt. Maybe Adam was fooling himself, reading too much into it, but he wanted to try to remember this moment.

            Justin is patient and thorough though, and by the time he pulls away to dig in his pocket for lube and a condom, Adam already feels wet and loose. He hasn’t managed to regain his breath, but his cock is back to throbbing, precum beading at the tip and he’s wiggling, uselessly chasing any type of friction. He feels Justin place a hand on his back and then there’s a slick, slightly chilly finger slipping gently past the puckered ring of his ass and his voice catches again in a high whine. He can feel Justin moving gently inside of him, scissoring and stretching him and he’s making a damn spectacle of himself, arching his back and moaning lewdly.

            “Oh fuck,” Justin rasps, adding a second finger quickly but gently, pressing up against the little ball of nerves and knocking the wind out of Adam. Words come tumbling from his mouth faster than he can recognize what he’s even saying.

            “Fuck, fuck me, fuck me, Justin, please. I need you, I need-” Adam cuts himself off with another moan as Justin continues to tease and stretch him. His nerves are on fire and the only things he can focus on is Justin’s fingers, Justin’s hands, Justin’s lips as they pepper more sloppy wet kisses down his back. It’s so much, everything is _so much_ and it’s making Adam dizzy. His whole world has narrowed down to what Justin is giving him at this moment and he relishes it, let’s himself sink down into this feeling of all consuming passion, letting himself pretend he’s okay. After a few more pumps Justin lets his fingers slip out of him completely and Adam feels cold and exposed, but there’s still the weight of Justin’s hand on his back, warm and grounding. He takes a deep breath, and when he feels the warm, wet pressure of Justin’s lube-slick cock wills himself to relax.

            Justin inches himself in painstakingly slow, and finally Adam can hear the ragged breathing that belies Justin’s cool and collected exterior. He spares a glance over his shoulder, eager to catch a glimpse of the man that’s been haunting him for a year. Justin doesn’t disappoint, his jaw is strong but slack with pleasure and his head is tipped back, once more drawing Adam’s eyes to the long column of his throat and down to his pecs, only now they’re covered in a sheen of sweat that makes him glow. If Adam wasn’t already bent over the couch he might have collapsed from the sheer beauty of the image.

            Once Justin bottoms out they’re still, and for a moment their breathing aligns. Justin brings his other hand up and gently but firmly holds Adam’s hips in place, and it’s absolute torture. Justin continues to be nothing but gentle, every touch and kiss giving Adam so much more than he expected. Finally after what feels like an eternity of simply feeling one another, Justin readjusts himself and starts up a slow and shallow pace.

            “Fuck, you feel so good,” Justin’s voice is barely a whisper, and if Adam hadn’t already been clinging onto every breathy moan he may have missed it. Justin presses even closer as he fucks into Adam, bending over Adam’s back and sliding a hand up his side, slipping around to tweak at his nipple almost playfully. It sends a shock through him, and Adam feels a spark travel through his body. It may have been a while since the last time Adam got laid, but his body was always on fire wherever Justin was concerned. Every touch makes Adam light up from the inside, and even the shallow strokes, faster now as they lose control, are almost overwhelming.

            Justin’s pace stutters and then he’s tugging at Adam again, maneuvering them both lower on the couch. Justin manages to sneak a hand beneath Adam and getting a firm grip on his aching cock before leaning over him and pushing his chest down into the cushions. The angle is a little awkward, Adam’s hips canted upwards but Justin’s leaning his weight over him and Adam is relishing the feeling. It gets Justin’s cock deeper and Adam bucks back, chasing the twin pleasures of Justin’s cock and his hand.

            “Adam, fuck, you’re so good,” Justin’s rambling more and more and Adam knows he’s close. He wants it so badly, wants to feel the way Justin’s body crashing through his climax and that’s the thought that pushes Adam over the edge. The second orgasm feels so different from the first, long and drawn out and ebbing between the push and pull of being fucked, it feels like it lasts forever. Justin fucks him though it and lasts a few more strokes before his body tenses and his grip turns from guiding to crushing, grinding Adam back onto his cock.

            They collapse together, totally spent. Adam feels like he’s made of jelly, exhausted and sated and feeling the most put together he had since… well, since graduation. Justin sags against him and for a few moments it’s just the two of them, laying together on the couch and pressed together tightly. He wishes he could hold onto this feeling forever, wants to bottle it so he can take it out on lonely nights and wrap himself in the feeling of Justin’s arms. It’s a drug he’d been chasing for years, and tonight was a relapse, but the way Justin holds him, keeps his nose pressed against Adam’s neck, fools him into thinking just maybe. They cling to one another longer than they should, and it’s not until their skin is tacky and cold, and Adam’s legs have nearly fallen asleep, that Justin finally gets up. He scoops his clothing off the floor and disappears into the bathroom and Adam is left, spent and laying in a wet spot. It takes a monumental amount of effort to push himself up and pull on his boxers, and when Justin reemerges, looking exactly as he had when he first walked in.

            The silence is suffocating, and they’re looking everywhere but at each other. Adam shuffles around, picking up a shirt off a dining chair to throw on as Justin bends down to fumble at the loose strings of his shoelaces.

            “I’m staying in California.” There it was, the answer to the question Adam was never going to be brave enough to ask.

            “It’s everything you’ve ever wanted,” Adam should have known better. There was never a spot for him in Justin’s plan, he had always just been a temporary distraction. He knows exactly what tonight had been - just a hookup. He could’ve just as easily been a Grindr date.

            “I do still care about you, so much.” Justin finishes with his shoes and stands, taking a tentative step closer. “I worry about you.”

            Adam scoffs if Justin really cared so much maybe he wouldn’t have fucked off to leave Adam to pick up the pieces of himself.

            “You’re brilliant and charming, and this,” Justin motions to the dusty boxes and the pile of dishes. “This isn’t you, Holster.” The name was jarring. He hadn’t actually heard that old nickname of his in such a long time. The way it rolls off Ransom’s tongue so naturally, still so full of fondness, makes tears prick at the corner of his eyes. No, he wasn’t Holster anymore, hadn’t been since there was no Ransom to balance him out. He didn’t really know who he was anymore, but Adam wasn’t about to go through this emotional journey right now. He’d lock that up and deal with it later, thank you very much.

            “It’s fine,” Adam’s voice is clipped and cold and he turns to open the door, a mask slipping over his features as he wills his tears to stop. “Don’t you have a plane to catch?”

            “Yeah,” Justin’s face falls and for a moment he stands there, jaw working like he has something else to say. He seems to change his mind, picking up his blazer and tie where he had abandoned it on the floor.

            “It was nice to see you again,” He stops close enough to Adam that he can feel the warmth radiating off of him, but they don’t reach for each other. Instead, they both wait, hoping that the other might move first, and finally when Justin does, it’s to slip past Adam and into the hallway, once more walking out of Adam’s life.

            Adam spares a moment to watch Justin disappear down the hallway before closing the door resignedly. Rosie twists herself between his ankles, chirping at him and blissfully ignorant of the situation. He runs a hand down his face, rubs at the dried tears in the corners of his eyes, and looks around him.

            Maybe it’s time he finally pulls himself together.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](http://pwney.tumblr.com).


End file.
